Boggarts
by Slytherclaw96
Summary: The most terrifying creatures in the wizarding world, scaring you spitless, Boggarts are the anti-Mirror of Erised which I'll also do sometime but what does everyone else fear most of all? T for fear. So far: Malfoy


**Disclaimer: **You really think I own this?

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_**The things which we fear the most in life have already happend to us.**  
_**_~ Robin Williams ~_**

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**_Draco Malfoy_**

Draco Malfoy looked around his new home. Well, it was still Malfoy Manor but now it was _his_. His parents had left it to him; they were still alive but as a marriage present Draco was left his own house. Him and his wife Torie Greengrass-Malfoy. She had pale hair, too, and Avada Kedavra green eyes set in a beautiful face.

The Battle had ended several years before and Draco had met her over five years previously. He loved her. She was the only person he had ever, really loved after his Mother. Father was more of a—a role-model but after being a Death Eater himself Draco thought much less of him.

Astoria was a year younger but Draco could see that she loved him, too. And, even better news, she was pregnant; it was a boy. Life couldn't be better for Draco. He was free, he had a wife and he didn't even care she was a half-blood, and he was going to be a father. He was scared but it was a good kind of scared. It was an apprehension that his son would think of him the way Draco thought of his own father and that his son would make the same mistake he had of thinking the Dark Arts would give immense power and joy.

He admired his new-familiar house but heard some rattling. Draco pulled out his wand and had a closer look at Aunt Bella's old room. She had used it for some months but no one else had ever opened it. He did. Draco's hand slipped on the silver knob but he refused to call for his wife. Inside, the green and silver hangings in a room, dark flooring and furniture and lack of windows all looked normal—except for the shaking dresser.

"What the...?"

Draco, keeping his wand raised, clicked off the lock and instantly backed up until the wall stopped him, gasping for breath. He felt the colour drain from his face when he saw who was coming out—_who_, not what.

A Death Eater. Long black robes decorated a frame that was all too familiar; the cold, harsh gray eyes showing between slits in the ornate silver mask were much too recognisable. The Death Eater took off the mask and held it casually at his side, his wand in his right hand.

It was Draco. A very, very terrifying Draco but still Draco. Same pale face and pointed features, gray eyes and white blonde hair but drastically _different_. A chalky sort of pale Draco had seen only one other time: on the Dark Lord. Draco could admit he wasn't a saint, that he didn't always treat people the same; he knew he could be cold and mean but he had never seen his eyes having that dangerous, frightening, icy glint in them. His blonde hair was a little too long, touching the collar of his hood.

The real Draco tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor.

The Death Eater Draco's clothes shimmered and changed into ordinary trousers and suit—the same thing the real Draco was wearing. The Death Eater smiled but there was no warmth or humour in the expression. He sat down on Bella's old bed and took off his jacket. "Hello. Long time, no see." His voice was just as cold as his eyes, having an arrogant tone that made Draco feel about an inch tall. "It's been a while since you let me out. You used to love me, aspire to me. What went wrong, Drake?"

Flinching at the nickname and mock concern in the Death Eater's voice, Draco's brain wasn't working enough because then the Death Eater rolled up his sleeves, exposing the Dark Mark, the very same Mark that was on Draco's arm but the Death Eater's was much, much darker. Draco forgot how dark it could become.

One long, pale finger started to trace the twirling snake absently. "Really, what went wrong? Was Potter too tempting? Did you think him and Dumbledore were right?" Death Eater Draco sneered.

"No, that's not it," Draco managed to say as he stood up, leaning on the wall. "I never—never sided with Potter. It—I—"

"Oooh," Death Eater Draco cooed. "Really? You never believed in the Dark Lord either. You were nothing but a weak, pathetic bully who couldn't even figure out who you were rooting for."

"Shut up," was all Draco could say.

"Are we really resorting to _that_?"

"I know what you are and you can't hurt me," Draco said, trying to inject confidence into his voice. "A Boggart. You're what I fear most; you're _not_ me."

"No," the Boggart said. "But I'm telling the truth. Admit that, at least."

Draco stood up, wand still raised, but his brain wasn't working. It couldn't think of something funny to banish this nuisance.

"Your son wants to be just like _me_." The Boggart laid down on Bella's bed, crossing his arms and legs, that cruel sneer still on his mouth and his voice got even colder. "Cepheus. He looks like you, you know. He smiles to your face but hates you and always will. You're weak. You're an embarrassment to his Slytherin friends. He wants to be a Death Eater. He wants to resurrect the Dark Lord and serve him to put Mudbloods where they're meant to be, to put purebloods at the height of society where we belong—even though, thanks to you, he isn't. That's what he hates most of all: that he's a half-blood."

The Boggart stood up and Draco backed up. He was shaking, he was so scared. "He _wants_ to be a pureblood. He _wants_ to raise the Dark side. He _wants_ you to be a father he can be proud of—but you're not and you never can be. Me, though. That's a different story entirely." Death Eater Draco's voice darkened further and slowed down, getting softer and softer—_deadlier._ "He positively _loves_ me. He _wants_ to be like me. Oh, and here he is."

A boy stepped from the closet. He had the same cold, cruel looks as the Death Eater Draco and wore Slytherin robes. But he was still recognisable as Draco's son even with the green eyes that were even brighter than his mother's, but they didn't hold the same light. And his sleeves were pushed up, too, revealing another Dark Mark on pale skin.

Draco felt like he was going to be sick—or cry. Probably cry, though.

"I hate you," the boy—Cepheus—his _son_ said. His voice was high and cold and reminded Draco of the Dark Lord's. "Why couldn't you have been a better father? Why couldn't you have been someone I could believe in?" Cepheus was almost shouting now, his voice becoming frantic, but Draco knew Astoria wouldn't come. "Why couldn't you be someone working for the greater good? Why did you have to be someone who's friends with _Harry_ _Potter,_ of all people? _Why_! Tell me, Father! You always told me about your father; you're so much worse than him! You're not just an embarrassment, you're a stain on the Malfoy, pureblood name! Why did you have to betray the greatest wizard of all time by not believing in him?" Cepheus's hands were outstretched in desperation and his teeth were clenched. Boggart Draco put his hand on the boy's shoulder comfortingly, pulling him closer.

"I didn't." Draco found his voice and raised his wand again. "_Riddikulus!"_ Draco shouted. Both his son and his doppelganger disappeared in a flash of green light—the same light as the boy's eyes.

Draco collapsed onto the floor, back against the wall, and closed his eyes. He wiped his face as he felt tears fall, hot and salty.

A few seconds later Astoria ran in. "What's wrong? I heard you shout." Then she saw him on the floor against the wall, tears running shamelessly down his face. She knelt down beside him and—even though Draco Malfoy just wasn't the type, even with her—hugged him. He pressed his head into her hair and let his last tears come out.

Boggarts were never this bad. Maybe the more you had and cared about, the worse your fears became.

At last he said, "Torie, we're not naming him 'Cepheus'_._ We're just not. What about 'Scorpius'?"

She pulled back and looked at him, stunned. "Drake, you love the name Cepheus."

He shook his head and stood up a bit unsteadily. "Doesn't matter. Not as middle name, either." He took a few deep breaths. "That would be just asking for trouble."

That moment Draco swore that he would raise his son to be a better person than he was. He regretted being a Death Eater; he would teach his son to be better than him. He would raise his little Scorpius to be the type of person Harry Potter wouldn't have declined friendship to: he'd be intelligent, loyal, brave and cunning. He'd embody all of the houses, yet choosing Slytherin as the official one.

Draco was raised to think that emotions were weak. The only one he had grown into was love. He never told her or his son his greatest fear, for that one continued for the rest of his life.

**) DM (**

Eight months later at Wespor's Hospital For Not So Serious and Mundane Hurts Draco held his wife's hand as she screamed. He carried those screams with him forever and the very colourful names she had for him when he said that it couldn't be _that_ bad also went in the memory stock.

A few minutes later—or was it eternity?—Draco kissed his wife and brought the baby from the Healer. Blonde hair, well that wasn't so surprising, the shade being a bright, platinum blonde that matched Draco's own wasn't too bad. And those gray eyes that had haunted his nightmares, but these were neither cold nor filled with hatred. They were innocent and caring and much, much too big for the giant head.

Draco found the second and last person he would love besides his mother.

"Cepheus doesn't fit," he muttered as he handed over the bundle. "Not at all. This is defiantly a Scorpius."

"I'm not going for a girl, Drake," Torie said, exhausted and almost dropping their child, who the Healer took back. "This is too much bloody work."

Draco nodded, a faint smile on his lips. The casual observer would think he was proud and happy but Draco was nearing a mental breakdown again. His father would be so disappointed. Draco's years as a Death Eater were the worst of his life and he wasn't going to condemn his son to any sort of life in service for Dark madmen, including the ideology. Draco _would_ teach Scorpius to be a better person than he ever was. Scorpius would be tolerant of Muggleborns and half-breeds, seeing that they were the same, the half-breeds a bit dangerous but that was normal. Scorpius would be the type of person Granger would've looked at just the once.

"Let's take your ideas for raising," Draco muttered again, brushing his wife's sweaty hair back. "I've lost too many Rock, Paper, Scissors tournaments."

Torie smiled in victory, leaning into Draco. "Finally."

**_Is it any good? I was struck my inspiration and had to write it. I was looking up the old Harry Potter fanfic challenges and was doing that 6 Words to Describe Characters and did one for Malfoy that fits this one oh-so-well. The 6 Word ones will be on here... eventually. _****This is my version of the Boggarts of the different Harry Potter characters. I've got Hermione's, too, but no other ones. These are just going to be a bunch of one-shots when I get inspired but if you've got an idea you can give me one and I'll write it in no less than 1000 words.**


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